November 1, 2007

Yet another self-indulgent post here . . . for three reasons:

1) My daughteris turning turned one (ONE!) on Tuesday and we had her party this past weekend, with loved ones mingling and toasting and sipping pink champagne. I swear, when we all broke out into Happy Birthday, Noe clapped her hands and got this look on her face that said, “oh wait a second, you mean you’re really all here for ME?” It was precious.

2) I baked cupcakes. Pumpkin spice cupcakes with caramel cream cheese frosting to be exact (you may have skidded to a halt in shock after reading “I baked,” so let me just restate . . . I . . . baked . . . cupcakes)—and they turned out FABULOUS.

3) We dressed Noe up as a peanut for Halloween and paraded her about our cozy little town with all the adorable kiddos trick-or-treating from shop to shop (naughty mommy and daddy even filched a Snickers bar) and she was so dang cute I had to share.

So consider this an “isn’t life grand?” post. Can’t get the smile off my face . . .

{ Pumpkin Spice Cupcakes with Caramel Cream Cheese Frosting }

I had the combo of pumpkin cake and caramel-cream cheese frosting in mind and scoured the internet for recipes, bound and determined as I was to actually follow a recipe. I even gave my friend Julie free reign to smack my hand if I so much as uttered a “but what if we . . .” In the end, I went with pumpkin spice cupcakes from Martha Stewart Living, and a caramel-cream cheese frosting from Cottage Living. (Nicole, as much as I wanted to make your double chocolate pumpkin cupcakes, we thought these might pair better with champagne . . . so I’ll just have to make yours for the next party and serve red wine!)

Divide batter evenly among liners, filling each about halfway. Bake until tops spring back when touched, and a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean, 20 to 25 minutes, rotating pans once if needed. Transfer to a wire rack; let cool completely.

Melt brown sugar and 4 tablespoons butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Stir until sugar dissolves. Bring to a boil over medium heat; remove from heat. Whisk in cream; blend well. Transfer to a heat-resistant bowl. Cool at room temperature, stirring occasionally.

Place remaining 6 tablespoons butter and cream cheese in a large bowl; beat with a mixer on medium-high speed until smooth. Beat in vanilla and salt. With mixer running, slowly pour in cooled brown sugar mixture; beat until smooth. Add powdered sugar gradually, beating well after each addition until completely smooth. Chill slightly for a firmer texture, stirring occasionally.

PS — I also made a mix of the spices used in the cupcakes, added a bit of salt and olive oil, and tossed it with almonds and pumpkin seeds (separately) and roasted them at 350 until they were nice and toasty and crisp. Then I cooled them and mixed them together and served them as a little nibbly before the cupcakes. It was kind of cool to have the spice theme play throughout the party.

October 19, 2007

It’s up! A Generous Pour—the campaign I waxed on about—is here! I promised you that this would be an opportunity to support a cause that tugs at all of our hearts, and when I tell you that the organization we’re raising money for is Share Our Strength—one of the nation’s leading organizations working to end hunger in America—I think you’ll agree. I mean, I’m pretty confident in my belief that everyone here has a serious passion for feeding people.

Here’s the other cool part . . . in order to give to Share Our Strength, all you have to do is receive. Download an exclusive remix of soulful songstress Corinne Bailey Rae’s “Like a Star” (or one of the other featured songs) and Clos du Bois will give $1 to Share Our Strength.

“But that’s not all,” she said, wielding a set of Ginsu Knives (just kidding . . . about the Ginsu that is). The other cool thing up there—and this was a fairly last-minute addition by the incredibly creative team working on a Generous Pour—is a party kit with pre-designed invitations (both electronic and print), menu templates, placecards and even votive covers so you can host a Generous Gathering of your own over the holidays if you’re so moved, and contribute even more to Share Our Strength.

Here’s the chance to nourish not only those you’ve gathered around your own table, but others who face empty plates all over America.

May 24, 2007

I wrote this post about a month ago and I feel like it kind of got lost in the shuffle of my vacation departure. But it’s important, so I wanted to bring it back up to the top of the fold, so to speak.

One of the things I love about being a writer is having the opportunity to raise people’s awareness of things that can make their lives—or the world . . . or both—a little bit better. And (I know this sounds dangerously close to a plug, but I assure you it’s not) Toast to Mom is one of those things.

When you go to toasttomom.com, upload a photo (or not, you can just use one of the cards they’ve designed if you’d rather) and send an e-card to your favorite mom, Clos du Bois will give $1 to WomenHeart, the only patient advocacy organization in America dedicated to women with heart disease.

Why is this important? Because heart disease is the leading cause of death among American women. Six times more women die of heart disease than of breast cancer each year—267,000 in fact. And WomenHeart is working hard to lower that number.

Why an organization focused only on women?

Because . . . 8,000,000 American women are currently living with heart disease.

Because . . . twice as many women as men who have survived heart attacks will have another one within six years.

Because . . . 38% of women, compared to 25% of men, will die within one year of their first heart attack.

Because . . . women display different symptoms than men, which means even though their risks are higher, they’re less likely than men to receive any type of treatment after a heart attack, and are almost twice as likely to die after bypass surgery.

So something is being done right? Well, yes and no. Women make up only 25% of participants in all heart-related research studies.

That’s why organizations like WomenHeart are so crucial. For raising awareness, for raising research dollars, for acting as a voice and a community for women coping with heart disease.

See . . . told you it was important. So go to toasttomom.com, send an e-card, and support women in the fight against heart disease. Gives a whole new level of meaning to cheers, eh?

May 11, 2007

This one is for my Mom, a “Happy Mother’s Day” toast to thank her for all she’s done over the years, and all she continues to be to me. This pic was taken when my mom was out visiting in March for my baby shower.

May 10, 2007

We always hear about how we learn from our elders, from those who came before us. But what about how the older generations are influenced by the younger? Case in point, my parents. My parents didn’t know a whole lot about wine when I was growing up. Boone’s Farm was a staple in our house and they eschewed the homemade wine from our Italian neighbor (which I wonder now if it was actually a gem).

But then I went to school in Paris and “discovered” the pleasures of wine. One time, not long after my first trip to Burgundy, my Dad came to visit and I opened a bottle of Aligote (a not-so-well known, somewhat humble grape from Burgundy) that I’d bought from the very first vineyard I’d ever been to. We sat on my balcony in Paris and ate cheese and sipped this fresh, simple wine while I told him that the hills in Burgundy had been softened by autumn mist and the vines were a tawny gold. I told him how we had stayed in a little inn and how the proprietor had greeted us late at night (we’d gotten lost on the way back from the vineyard) with a crock of Boeuf Bourgignon cooked over the fire, and early in the morning with fresh-baked croissants. As I took my next sip of wine, I realized it—its aroma, its taste—somehow encapsulated the experience and the place for me. My dad realized it too. It was our first experience of terroir.

When I came back to America and lived with my parents for a time, we explored beyond Boone’s Farm and every bottle was like discovering a new land. I went on to learn more about wine and, eventually, to move to America’s wine country in California and still, my experiences are broadening my parents’ wine horizons. Christopher and I will often instigate a year of “Huber Wine Club” monthly shipments to thank them for one thing or another, or to celebrate a life event (we have Dad on a special ‘blends’ program right now to celebrate his first year of retirement ;-)). And more often than not, the wines and stories we share with them affect the direction of their own wine exploits.

I just met Erik Olsen, Clos du Bois’ winemaker, for the first time the other day and he said something that sparked this whole line of thinking (come to think of it, we were talking about his upcoming trip to Burgundy too, so I guess he infiltrated this whole post). His mom is Scandinavian and grew up on beer and aquavit, but now she’ll only drink Erik’s reserve wines (he was laughing that she doesn’t seem to realize that he actually has to pay for the wine he sends her). Ironically, my mom had made a similar remark when I was back in Connecticut last week. She was swirling something nice and let out a wistful sigh and said, “now that we know the good stuff, it’s hard to go back, isn’t it?” To that I would say yes, mom, it certainly is. No matter which generation the revelation comes from.

May 8, 2007

I know that may sound obvious, especially as the mother of a six month old. But as we move towards mother’s day, my thoughts have been on those earlier in the line — my mom, my grandma — and those I’ve watched take on motherhood more recently. It never occurred to me that I am one of the moms being honored this Sunday.

Let me explain. Noemi de Leon Huber is my daughter and I am her mother (that’s us together in Guatemala on the right). Only I live in California and she lives in Guatemala City with her (wonderful!) foster family. We’re in the no-man’s land of the adoption process where we’re just waiting for the call saying “go and get her!” So yes, we have a car seat. Yes, we have her room all set up. Yes, we’ve discussed diapers (we’re going with gdiapers) and food (I’m cooking my own . . . I’m a recipe developer for cripes sake!). But no, we don’t yet hear Noe’s little coos when she wakes up in the morning (ugh my heart hurts as I write this), I can’t yet watch her make google eyes at her daddy and I can’t feel the puffs of her breath against my neck as she sleeps.

This weekend, we were at a friend’s house for a birthday celebration and one of the couples had an adorable seven month old boy named Noah. Hovering would be the polite term to describe what Chris and I did all night. Stalking might be more appropriate though ;-). But as we listened to them talk about how he’s been crawling for months and is pushing through his third tooth, I felt this clenching in my stomach — is my daughter crawling already? Did I miss her first tooth? Seeing Noah with his parents drove home just how many details we’re missing day by day with Noe, and that hurts no matter how irrelevant those details will be five years from now.

So this Sunday, I’m going to raise a toast to me. My day to day world may not revolve around Noe yet. But my heart does.

May 7, 2007

In the spirit of the Toast to Mom event going on, I thought I’d stick with toasts and moms as themes for this week. I suppose I approached the whole toast thing a bit backwards, looking at toasts from a somewhat introspective, philosophical angle first and then moving into the whimsical. But hey, that’s me.

There are a couple urban myths about toasting that I’ve always wondered about. So today, I’m going to dig until I get to the truth.

1) Clinking has treacherous roots. I had always heard that clinking descended from medieval times, when those in power would routinely poison their enemies and the only way to be sure you’d make it through the meal was to slosh some of your wine into your hosts to make sure they were on the up and up. I’ll be honest, it sounded like a stretch. And, according to Barbara Mikkelson, it is.

Barbara brings up the interesting point that until modern times, wine was consumed from a common vessel, which means that if I intended to poison Fred on my left, I’d be poisoned myself when the cup or flask was handed to me. When individual glasses came into play, even the worst of enemies probably didn’t wham them together as a defensive measure. Simply put, it would be a waste of wine.

According to Barbara, the clinking came in as a metaphorical nod to the tradition of being in communion over a common vessel of wine. During a toast, everyone raising their glass is joined and when the glasses touch, even the wine is reunited with itself again for a brief moment. There’s also a sensory aspect. Before clinking, wine only appealed to four of the five senses. The clink brought an aural sensation to the mix. Think about how crystal sings when it’s tapped and you’ll get how powerful that added dimension can be.

2) If you don’t look the person you’re toasting in the eye you’ll be cursed with seven years of bad sex. Hmmmm. I’ve always wondered where this one came from. Chris and I were at a wedding in Norway once, and whenever we’d gaze at the center of the table while careening our glasses in an arc to clink whomever was in the vicinity, we were given glares. After several embarassing attempts, our friend explained that for Norwegians, the emphasis is on looking each other in the eye, not touching glass. It makes sense to me. Be rooted in the moment and the people you’re with instead of whizzing towards a crash. But where did the bad sex come in?

Wikipedia mentions that not looking into the other person’s eyes sends the message of distrust, and may be followed by seven years of bad luck. So did the superstition just morph over the years (or did it just morph among my friends? Hmmmm again . . . ) from bad luck to bad sex? Like adding “in bed” to the end of your fortune from a fortune cookie? Unfortunately, I can’t answer this one yet. I’ve just spent hours surfing for an answer and have found absolutely nada (I’m happy to report, though, that it looks like it’s not just me who follows the eye contact rule . . . just in case it’s true). Does anyone know how this myth got started? If so, please share.